


Honey, did you know?

by elizathecat



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sherlock Holmes and Bees, Valentine's Day, i love that that's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23362351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizathecat/pseuds/elizathecat
Summary: Sherlock Holmes doesn't do Valentine's Day, John knows. He also knows about Sherlock's secret love of bees and that St. Valentine was the patron saint of beekeepers. What could he possibly do with these facts?(they're totally visiting a bee farm)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not valentine's day, but Sherlock Holmes and bees is everything so I had to write this.  
> (The bees will be in the next chapter)

The morning of 14th February dawned cold but clear, promising sunshine later in the day. Sherlock merely grumbled when John pointed this out, burying his head further into the blankets to avoid the rays of light filtering through the partly open curtains. The only part of him still visible was his dishevelled hair, sticking up in wild clumps, and a vaguely person shaped sulky lump under the covers. John stepped softly from the room, hoping Sherlock would manage to sleep a little longer. 

They had spent the better part of a fortnight working on a case, but last night the murderer had been found, the will declared invalid and the jewels returned to their rightful owner. Sherlock had been slightly loopy from lack of sleep at that point, needing John to hold him tightly before he could shut his brain off and rest properly. 

And now he was cranky. John had a suspicion as to why; his partner had become slightly more tense and liable to snap at people with every valentine’s display they’d had to walk past, and this was their first Valentine’s Day as a couple. Sherlock was probably worried about what was expected of him. John had heard his tirades against the holiday before so he wasn’t expecting any romance to be happening, and in all honesty he didn’t much care for it himself. It was just a case of convincing Sherlock of that.

He did have plans for the day though. He took a moment while making tea to run through his plan and make sure everything was in order, thanking whatever higher power existed (and Lestrade) for making their case wrap up with perfect timing. He hummed to himself while putting the milk in the fridge and scooped up the two mugs, preparing to wake his cranky partner and coax him out of bed. 

Sherlock cracked an eye open when John plunked the mugs down on the bedside table, and quickly shut it again when he saw John watching.

“Hey mister, I saw that!” John teased, sitting down hard to make the mattress bounce. The eye opened again, glaring. John booped his nose.

“Why is it you’re always nagging me to take better care of myself but as soon as I do something boring like sleeping you’re here disturbing me?”

“Because we have plans today!”

Sherlock’s face became, impossibly, even gloomier. “I haven’t…made any plans.”

“No, I know, but I have.” John smiled gently, helplessly, reaching to brush some of Sherlock’s wild hair into some sort of order. “You’ll like it, I promise.” 

Sherlock continued glaring suspiciously, but one long arm snaked out of the blankets to pick up his tea. It was exactly the right ratio of milk to sugar, something John managed perfectly every time despite Sherlock himself not knowing how to do it. 

“John-”

“Sherlock-”

They both giggled, gesturing for the other to carry on, an invitation John took when Sherlock stayed determinedly silent.

“Sherlock, I know you don’t like Valentine’s Day and you’ve been worried about it-”

“Not worried.” Sherlock mumbled, looking intently at his hands.

“Yeah you are, and it’s fine. I knew you before we agreed to try being in a relationship, and you warned me then that you wouldn’t be traditionally romantic and as I told you it really doesn’t bother me.” John took Sherlock’s tea and put it back on the bedside table, holding his hands and shaking them gently. “I know you love me because you buy milk and wait for me before dashing off on cases and remember to stop and eat because you know it worries me. I have no expectations of you buying me flowers and taking me to a restaurant because the calendar tells you to.”

“We have a calendar? Wait no-”

John laughed brightly, delicately placing a kiss on the tip of Sherlock’s nose.

“-that wasn’t what I wanted to say.” Sherlock squeezed John’s hands, trying to infuse his voice with every bit of sincerity he could summon. “Thank you. I do love you, but I wish I could show it better.”

“Were you even listening? You do show me. Do you really think I want to go somewhere packed with couples to eat not enough food for a ridiculous price? And what would we do with flowers in the flat other than forget to water them and then have to hoover up petals from the carpets before Mrs Hudson had a fit.”

Sherlock nodded, opening his mouth to begin what John was sure would be an impressive rant about the futility of romantic practises, so he kissed him quickly, smiling at the indignant noise Sherlock made against his mouth.

“So. My plans.” John sat back to watch Sherlock’s face as he revealed the surprise he’d worked so hard to hide. “Do you know the additional things Valentine was saint of?”

Sherlock shook his head, one eyebrow raised sarcastically.

“Yeah fair, why would you? Anyway, he wasn’t only the patron saint of couples but also epilepsy, the plague and beekeepers…” A smile was dawning on Sherlock’s face, and John hoped it was about the beekeepers and not the plague. "...so I arranged for us to visit a bee farm.”

Sherlock’s face lit up in a huge smile.

“We’re going to have a look around, taste some honey, I think they’ll let you-”

John was cut off by Sherlock leaping from the bed, his long limbs unfolding in one explosive movement, before twirling down the hall to the bathroom. “Come along John!” he called, “we can’t be late for the bees!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the bees!  
> Also I realised I forgot to specify when this is set. It isn't. It's loosely related to BBC Sherlock in that I needed to borrow the modern setting and vague details about their appearances but other than that...Maybe this is the alternate universe of the unaired pilot episode?

Several hours later, and the car pulled up outside a set of wrought iron gates. Fields stretched into the distance, full of colourful plants with white hives dotted around. There was a distinct scent of flowers, and a slight hum in the air. John wouldn’t have been surprised if Sherlock started buzzing himself he was so excited. As it was, he was bouncing lightly on his toes with his face pressed to one of the gates. A figure was walking towards them from a distant hut tucked among the flowerbeds—presumably Mrs Finchley, the owner.

“The gates are unlocked dears!” she called, and Sherlock was already inside, rushing over to the nearest bush and muttering to himself.

“Hi Mrs Finchley,” John smiled as she drew near, “thank you for letting us have a look around.”

“Oh no, call me Connie dear, or at least Constance if you must. And it’s no trouble; it’s lovely to see someone so excited about my bees.”

They both looked over at Sherlock, flat on the ground sketching something in his notebook with his head nearly inside the nearest flower bush.

John sighed. “He’s going to be insufferable once he realises he’s got dirt on his coat.”

“He’s a dear though isn’t he?”

“That’s one way of saying it!” John laughed fondly, enjoying the rapt expression on Sherlock’s face.

“Shall we go and have some tea? He looks like he’ll be a while.”

“Yes please!” John nodded hastily, feeling the February chill Sherlock seemed impervious to.

Connie bustled around the hut which served as her office, refusing any attempt John made to help make tea and toast, and get jars of honey out of various cupboards.

“Of course this is from the summer,” she was saying, “I’ve enough winter blooms to keep them happy but they don’t produce an excess of honey like they do in the summer. My Magda used to like the Winter Heather honey though so when it was possible I’d take a little for her.”

“Magda was your…”

“She was my wife in every sense but the legal one.” Connie smiled wistfully. “She would have loved to be able to…”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

“Oh nonsense, it’s been years now and we had a good run together.” She started cutting slices of bread from a crusty loaf which looked homemade, while managing to shoo John away from the boiling kettle. “Now, why don’t you call that other young man in to try some honey?”

John was slightly startled by the implication he could be seen as young, but did as he was bid. Sherlock was coming up the path towards him, immediately looking guilty when he saw John’s head sticking out of the door and shoving…whatever it was…into his pockets faster.

“You better not be stealing Connie’s bees.” John teased, smiling at the way Sherlock froze.

“Of course I’m not putting bees in my pocket John; that would be cruel.”

“I was joking love. Though I would like to know if you’re squirrelling away anything potentially dangerous.”

“Not dangerous,” Sherlock mumbled, appearing embarrassed to have been caught, “it’s just some flower cuttings I wanted to grow.”

“I’m sure the bees won’t mind you taking a few flowers,” John smiled, “come and try some of these lovely honeys, you didn’t have any breakfast.”

Sherlock perked up immediately, dashing past John into the hut.

The next hour was somewhat of a blur to John, Sherlock quizzing Connie on every small detail of how she looked after her bees while consuming startling amounts of toast and honey. He seemed most interested in determining the flower species which would attract the most bees but were small enough to grow in pots. John resigned himself to placating Mrs Hudson when Sherlock inevitably replanted her window boxes for her.

After Sherlock had tried a tiny toast soldier of every variety of honey, and written endless notes in a complex table he appeared to be using for a ranking system, he started getting squirrely again, looking longingly out of the window and pulling his feet up onto the seat of the chair. 

Connie wasn’t offended, brushing off John’s attempt to wash their dishes and shooing them back out the door, chuckling as Sherlock skipped down the step from the hut, dragging John by the hand.

“Thank you Connie!” John called over his shoulder, trying not to fall. “We’ll come and find you later.”

She waved, clearly still hiding a smile behind her other hand but Sherlock was focussed on leading John somewhere and didn’t notice.

“Look at this mahonia!” Sherlock had led John deep into the farm down increasingly small gravel paths weaving between the hives and flowerbeds, finding the best one to show him. “It makes a lot of nectar so it’s really good for bees in winter while all their usual food sources aren’t producing anything.” He bounced a little, pointing out all the bees busy on the plant.

“I’m guessing that’s something you’ll only plant once you have the space for whole hives.” John said, looking at the tall bush which definitely wouldn’t fit in a window-box.

“It would start out fairly small but yes. There are other smaller flowers which do just as well in winter that I’d like to grow.”

“Oh, where are they then?” John peered at the flowerbeds, trying to spot plants with plenty of bees on.

“They’re uh…not here.” Sherlock turned back to the mahonia, trying to look busy even though there weren’t any bees on the particular branch he was looking at.

“Why are they not here Sherlock?” John was enjoying his pitiful attempts to ignore the conversation.

Sherlock mumbled something very quietly.

“Are you at least going to tell me what species they are?”

A long pause. 

“Aconite and stinking hellebore.”

“Ah. They make the honey poisonous I assume?”

“Yes, but they would be perfectly safe in a window box!” he rushed to assure John.

“As long as you’re careful looking after them.” John warned, nudging Sherlock’s ribs gently with his elbow. “And make sure you warn me if you’re using them in experiments.”

Sherlock squinted at John for a moment and then flung his long arms around him in a very quick hug. “Thank you!” 

He seized John’s hand again, leading him around the mahonia and down an avenue lined with bare trees. An old brick wall bordered one edge of the field, plants climbing over every inch of it. Most of them appeared lifeless, though of course they weren’t, but every few yards there were brilliant green leaves and sprays of white flowers.

“Look at how many honeybees there are on this winter honeysuckle!”

“It’s an appropriate name then.” 

“Yes, it’s a really good food source for the whole year if it’s kept in a good area, like here, it has a wall to support it and shelter it from the wind and it faces south so it gets a lot of sunshine…” Sherlock stopped talking suddenly, looking at John from the corner of his eye. “Sorry.”

John fantasised for a second about the painful deaths he could inflict on anyone who had refused to hear Sherlock speak about things he enjoyed, but threats of violence didn’t feel right in the sunshine of the quiet flower garden. 

“So a south-facing, sheltered area is something to look for when we’re planning retirement?”

He knew he’d said the right thing when Sherlock actually looked at him and smiled briefly. The raised eyebrow told him Sherlock knew exactly what he was doing but was pleased enough to not mention it. Sherlock tugged gently on his hand instead of replying and wandered over to a bed of lavender, its stems dry and pruned short.

“Do you think Mrs Hudson would let me grow lavender in her window boxes?”

“I think she’d love you to help a bit more round the house,” John teased, “and she likes the scent of lavender.”

They wandered on, through archways draped with more honeysuckle and around white hives humming with activity. Sherlock nattered on about the flowers surrounding them and the politics of a honeybee colony, his free hand gesturing all the while.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny scene with an extra bee friend :)

They were slowly making their way back to Connie’s hut, wandering down another arch-lined pathway when John was startled by a sudden shout.

“No!”

“Wha-” John nearly walked into the arm which had been flung in front of his midsection. “Sherlock, what?”

Sherlock was crouched on the path in front of him, focussed on something and muttering softly. He stood carefully, turning to face John, his hands cupped gently in front of himself. 

“John look,” he breathed. A fat bumblebee was sitting in his palms, unmoving. “It’s been away from its colony for too long.”

“Can we do anything?”

“It’s just cold, it should be okay if I warm it with body heat.” He still looked worried though, his face slightly tense as he stared at the bee. 

John took a step closer, waiting for Sherlock to pull his hands closer to his chest before wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s waist. “There. Now this little guy has double the body heat.”

“She’s a female.”

“Sorry?”

“Only female bumblebees collect nectar and pollen.”

“Oh right. I thought bumblebees don’t make honey?”

“They do, but not enough to collect. There’s probably a colony nearby because of all the flowers.” 

He gasped. “John, look!”

One of the bumblebee’s legs had twitched. Sherlock hunched his shoulders over it, peering closely, his eyes shining with wonder.

“It’s working.” John breathed, wary of disturbing both the bee and Sherlock, who looked like he was very carefully filing every second away in his mind palace. The bee was moving more now, its legs slowly coming to support it, wings stretching away from its fat little body. Sherlock’s face was already starting to fall. John couldn’t see how he had become so attached to the little creature in the span of only a couple of minutes but he was already dreading the amount of moping its departure would generate.

But the bee didn’t seem to be leaving. It had taken a few steps across Sherlock’s hand, the first few faltering but gaining strength, and then seemed to settle down again. 

“John! It likes me!” Sherlock’s voice was hardly more than a whisper but still suffused with delight.

John couldn’t resist taking a step back and fishing his phone out of his pocket, snapping a photo of Sherlock’s blinding smile and the fuzzy friend cupped in his hands.

“Of course it likes you.” 

“But I should take it back to its colony, right?”

“Yeah, so it can go back to its bumblebee life. That’s the kindest thing to do.”

“Right.” Sherlock stood, not moving, staring at the bee resting in his palms. “Her colony is in that hedge, I noticed it earlier.” He waited another long moment and then turned carefully and started crunching slowly down the gravel path. 

John couldn’t see much in the hedge but Sherlock clearly knew the spot he was aiming for, holding out his hand to let the bee step slowly from his fingers onto a leaf. “Stay in the sunshine next time.” he instructed the bee, and John had to swallow a laugh at his grave tone. He stared at the little bumblebee a moment longer and then spun abruptly, marching back across the field, his coat flaring behind him.

John hurried after him, silently nudging his shoulder into Sherlock’s arm when he caught up.

“Should we go and say bye to Connie then?”

Sherlock looked around for a minute, drinking in the sight of the flowers and the still audible buzz before sighing. “I suppose we must.”

Connie opened the door of her office-hut just before John knocked. “Leaving already dears?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said with possibly the most dejected look John had ever seen, “it’s getting dark and John doesn’t like the cold.”

“Well you won’t miss much, the bees will all be getting back in their hives around now.” She reached across from where she stood on the top step and patted Sherlock’s cheek fondly. “You’re welcome back any time of course.”

“Thank you.” Sherlock smiled one of his rare true smiles at her

“Oh and I’ve got some honey here for you, you didn’t try it earlier.” 

“What type is it?” Sherlock asked, looking at the small unlabelled jar.

“Winter Heather,” she said, looking at John and glaring fiercely as he opened his mouth to protest.

“Thank you Connie,” John said instead, suitably cowed, “I’m sure we’ll be back soon enough.”

“Look after yourselves!” she called, waving as they turned to leave.

John waited by the gates, having taken the direct route while he watched Sherlock meander slowly towards him through the evening gloom, stopping off at certain flowerbeds for a last look. His plan to do something Sherlock would enjoy and take his mind off the expectations of Valentine’s Day had worked far better than he could have wished for. And by the looks of the plant stems poking out of Sherlock’s pockets, he would be occupied by his own bees before long. 

“Thank you for today John,” he said, earnestly making eye contact, “I couldn’t have imagined a better Valentine’s Day. But…did you have a nice time? I feel like it’s supposed to be one of those reciprocal things.”

“Oh no, it was terrible having to walk around in the sunshine listening to my partner talk about something he loves…yes I had a nice time you wally.”

“Oi! I thought you were supposed to be romantic on Valentine’s Day!”

“Oh so now you care about romance?” John giggled, elbowing Sherlock in the side.

“I care about not being called a wally.” Sherlock retorted, bumping John with his hip to elicit another giggle.

“Ok I’ll be sure to call you a daft git in the future then.” John teased, hopping out of reach of any more nudges. “But come on, let’s get those flowers home so you can get us some fuzzy new flatmates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, come find me on tumblr @eliza-the-cat


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